


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF --The Weekend - Friday

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [58]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: A series in a series, Accidental Kissing, Angst, But people cry over this series, Colepaldi, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Humour, Hurt, Kissing, Maybe you are save here but I am not sure, Part I, Romance, Statistically they cry most in part three, Suppressed Feelings, i don't know why, real person fiction - Freeform, this is the end of the colepaldi collection, tieing lose ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:18:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6219767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Peter's last weekend in Cardiff before he moves back to London, after he has regenerated as the Doctor. Jenna, who has come back for his last episode, wants to help him pack his stuff. This leads to them, spending this last weekend together. (Last) Part of the Colepaldi Collection and also of the Series "The Weekend" that tells those last three days in three last stories. You'll read Friday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF --The Weekend - Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to [ "The Weekend - A Colepaldi RPF FanFic"](http://archiveofourown.org/series/421678) \- this is the first part (Friday) of this series/collection I've written in three parts to wrap up the Colepaldi Collection. I created this Collection in August 2014, and now 60 stories later, I close it. 
> 
> I post this three fics as three separate stories and not as chapters because I wanted to have 60 stories, and I think one can read them as standalone, but I wouldn't recommend it.
> 
> Let me tell you a bit about this big project I call "The Weekend". 
> 
> As some of you maybe remember, a while ago, I asked in a poll, if I should write a Colepaldi love/sex scene/fic, and most people told me to do so.  
> Over the time I wrote Colepaldi, a lot of people asked me to write it, but I always said, it's against my policy.  
> When I am honest, I think about it since I started writing. I earned a lot of critic for writing RPF and my opinions, but I received even more encouragement and compliments, and in dark hours, when the hate was overwhelming, I got backup from my readers.  
> I got a lot of lovely comments on my fics, and everyone encouraged me to write on -- all the time sticking to my rules, which I gave myself when I started.
> 
> Please don't stop reading, when I tell you now, that I have stumbled now over my rules and have broken them because it's not as easy as it seems. This is not a smut-fic without a plot! 
> 
> I thought long and hard how to write it, how to stay true to how I write them, to how I see them and also, in respect of relationships they have (not with each other). I didn't write this lightly. And for all who ask "WTF did you do it?", I did it because ... I think it was inevitable. For me, as a writer. I can't explain it, it was just something I knew needed to be written. In case you read this stories, you might grasp what I mean by it.
> 
> The idea for this project is in my head since months, and at first, I thought I need to write this to proof something to myself. That I can be brave as others, who already have written similar. It needed a lot of insight to find out, that I do not need to be brave because I think I was brave when I started writing RPF.  
> I can remember being the only one posting in the Colepaldi tag, and now, it's common, people write Capaldi/Coleman fics, and I can't tell for sure, but I think, that's my fault too... (not sure if I can be proud of that).
> 
> Here now, I tell you about a weekend, and yes, there is accidental kissing (Friday), more non-accidental kissing (Saturday) and a love scene (Sunday), but it's mostly a story about two people going through emotions and happenings and about a friendship. 
> 
> For all the people who not want to read what is happening on Sunday, be told, you'll be able to read Sunday, and will be able to leave out the M/E-content. (please check here the notes I will add for the Sunday part). 
> 
> If you are not with me here, I can understand it, but I want to tell you, that you can trust me. I'll treat those characters like I always have. With respect. 
> 
> This story was hard to write, because at first, I wanted to talk a lot, explain a lot, till I noticed, that I try to explain something that shouldn't be explained.  
> I was justifying myself, and that is not what I have to do. So I deleted a lot and rewrote a lot, finding, in the end, a way, that tells my opinions and a story. Many things are said, but all between the lines.
> 
> You also find a lot of links in the stories, that lead to older RPFs (it's not necessary you have read them, it's just a gimmick). In the end, 90% of all my Colepaldi fics are connected and play in the same universe. 
> 
> The last point, as this is telling about a Weekend, I decided, to publish it on a weekend. Starting with this Friday.  
> I fulfill a few prompts I got or some recent interviews I've heard in this fic. The beard is a topic. The Xmas Special 15 is. I am always one for throwing in some little facts and happenings.  
> Now, enjoy!

 

“Are you kidding me?” Peter looked up from his spot, letting the image of Jenna in her pajama bottoms sink in. She was also wearing a loose dark sweater, the straps of another top underneath peeking out by the shoulder.

 

“What?” Jenna exclaimed, spreading her arms, looking down at her trousers. What had the man expected? That it was, she wore in bed.

 

Peter gave her a laugh, somewhere between amused and having spotted something unbelievable, “ _Those_ are your pajama bottoms?”

 

Jenna rolled her eyes at him, proceeding forward, placing her denim and the rest of her clothes she had changed for, into her bag she had brought, “What’s the matter with you, Capaldi? Of all people in the world, _you_ are judging me now? Over my Doctor Who - Daleks Jim-jams?”

 

 #

It had come all by surprise. Jenna being Jenna, got all over excited when Peter had told her about his last days in his apartment in Cardiff. His time at Doctor Who had come to an end, and for his final episode, Jenna had returned — naturally.

They had a couple of wonderful days on set, like in the old times. And it had made it easier for him to make his goodbyes from the show.

 

Somewhere between takes he had mentioned, that he had to pack some last boxes before the removal firm would come by on Sunday to get his stuff back to London. Then his time in Cardiff would come to an end.

 

“So it’s your last weekend in Cardiff and your apartment?”

 

“Yes, it is. A big chapter coming to an end,” he said. “I fear it will be quite emotional. Me packing boxes all alone. I am afraid it will be quite horrible.”

 

Jenna laughed, “When I was still living in Blackpool, and one of my friends moved, we all met up for the last night and spent it with watching silly TV shows till long after midnight and ate pizza.”

 

Peter looked at her, unsure what to expect, “So?”

 

“It’s a nice thing. I could come over and help you, and then we watch Doctor Who Classics — you can choose — and we eat greasy pizza while you ask me exam questions about the show,” she smiled at him. “Could be fun, and you wouldn’t be alone. I mean, only if you like. I have some off time till Monday, so."

 

He could see she would love to spend some more time with him, and he couldn’t deny he thought the same. They hadn’t seen for two years, only phoned a couple of occasions, E-Mails, short messages and two short meetings at some charity events. But there was never really time for a proper chat.

He was about to say yes when he remembered that he only had one mattress left; which was laying on the floor, as a bed. The sofa was already disassembled. They would have to share the spot, “The thing is, I only have the mattress from the bed left. We… if it’s no problem? It's a big one but."

 

“Oh, come on, of course, it is not, we've shared a bed before, remember?” she shrugged.

 

Of course, he remembered. It was hard to forget, [it had been the night in this dreadful scary house,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3252221) after Jenna had a nightmare, he had slept at her side.

 

“If it’s a problem, then…,” she knew why he hesitated. Also, it had been two years now. There was no reason to fear her sleepover; they were grown-ups, weren’t they? He was her best friend, and she was sure she was his too, and the only thing she wanted, was that he wouldn’t be alone in his last nights in Cardiff. “I just thought about two good friends hanging out with each other.”

 

Peter felt childish. His concerns were childish, and he didn’t know why his brain tried to make a problem out of it, “No, you are right. There is nothing about it. I would love to have you around and hang out with you.”

 

So they had agreed to her coming over on Friday evening. She brought her bag, and a bag of jelly babies, he only laughed about.

The flat was already mostly packed up. Pictures hung up from the walls; different interior disabled, and dozens of boxes half-filled with books, clothes, dishes and God knew what. They mostly had to do the kitchen, wrap the plates in paper and unfreeze the fridge. There were some shelves in Peter's old bedroom, still full of books and records. Stuff like that. for

 

As Friday had been a long day, they agreed on watching the Doctor Who movie with Paul McGann, because Jenna still hadn’t been able to finally watch it, and to order Pizza.

 

Before they started, she had asked him if it was okay, if she changed into her pajama, and he found that a rather good idea, telling her she could use the bathroom. And when she returned with her Doctor Who themed trousers he couldn’t hold back his disbelief and laughter. Besides he had to admit, she looked quite adorable in them.

 #

 

Instead of answering her question, he walked over to his stack of clothes aside the mattress, and pulled out his own pajama trousers, holding them out to her, “I have no problem with it, it’s just… I have the fucking same.”

 

Jenna stared puzzled and with open mouth at the trousers he lined up with his legs in front of him before bursting into laughter. As she was kneeling by her bag, she had to sit down on the floor, before almost curling on it, because she couldn’t stop laughing.

 

Peter joined her into her laughing fit, “Where did you get them from?”

 

“Christmas, a year ago,” she explained wiping some tears away. “And you?”

 

“Birthday present,” he shook his head over the coincidence. “I never thought, that you of all people would wear Doctor Who merch.”

 

“Oh, now come on,” Jenna pouted at him, robbing over to the mattress. "I am very fond of this show, and aside I surely have not as much Doctor Who shirts at home as you, I have some memorabilia.”

 

Peter smirked, realizing he just had discovered something about her he didn’t know before, “I guess I change too. How about you ordering some food?”

 

“Fine by me, what do you want?”

 

“Whatever you like,” he called from the bathroom, stripping down his clothes to put on his pajama bottoms, still laughing, and then he threw over a grey shirt and his holey jumper. He listened to Jenna ordering the pizza, and when she had finished, he came back to the living room, presenting himself exaggerating in his night wear.

 

“Just you know, you look as ridiculous in it as I do,” she motioned him over to sit aside her on the bed. She had spread out some DVD’s on the bedsheet, as she couldn’t detect the eighth doctor movie yet. “I couldn’t find the right one yet.”

 

Peter settled aside her leaning over and searched for the DVD, while Jenna noticed his jumper, “I can’t believe this one still exists,” she reached out and felt the fabric for a moment. "After you didn’t wear it anymore on the show, I thought it might had gone lost or, just had fallen apart.”

 

“No,” he watched her poke a finger through one of the holes like she used to do in the past. “I just stopped wearing it.”

 

“Why?” she let go of the jumper, but couldn’t resist to stroke over his arm one more time. As if the jumper was an old friend she was glad to see one last time, before he would vanish forever.

 

Peter saw her smile directed at his jumper, full of emotions and remembrance of the old days. It made him almost sentimental, something he had hoped to avoid with her being her, but he soon had realized, that the event of leaving Cardiff and Doctor Who brought that with it.

He was close telling her, that after she had left the show, he couldn’t bring himself to wear the jumper again. He knew she liked it so much, [once had even worn it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2690660), when he had been sick at home, and aside the costume was popular with the fans, they had just this one, his private jumper.

If he had kept on wearing it, it would have ripped or would had gone lost, and that was something he didn't want to happen. And so he arrived at the set for the new series, one day, telling them that the jumper had been damaged. No one believed otherwise while he kept the jumper in his apartment only wearing it in private, “As you said, earlier or later, it would have fallen apart, and I am just very fond of it. So…," he inhaled directing his eyes from her face down to the DVD's, his hand reaching for one case, "I think that is the right one."

 

When the movie came to an end, and the end credits rolled Peter glanced over at Jenna who had made herself comfortable on her side of the bed, "Up to another?"

 

She came up and leaned over to the DVD cases, shoving them around, “Maybe. Why not, let’s see…”

 

He watched her browse through the cases, opening them, checking the texts on the inside and probably the pictures. He needed to smile over it because that’s a bit like him. Sometimes he didn’t care about the text that narrates the topic of the episode; sometimes it’s all about the pictures.

For some reason she stopped by one DVD, having it in hand, but she didn't read the text, nor really looked at the photos and yet there was something about it. Frowning he glanced at it – the Christmas Special from 2015, with Alex. Unsure what was the matter, he asked her if she wanted to watch it.

 

"No," she looked at him, giving him a small smile and placed the case on the others, before leaning back again, "I think I had enough Doctor Who for one day."

 

"Okay," he nodded and made a stack out of the cases to place them aside the bed. Something was up, he could sense it, but wasn't sure if he should ask if he was allowed to ask and so for a moment they fell into silence.

Jenna then smirked coy, and went to get a glass of water, and while he watched her walk to the kitchen, a thought hit him. Turning once again to the pile of episodes and movies, the Christmas Special on top, he finally had a hunch what was the problem.

 

Jenna, returned from the kitchen, sipped her water and watched him. Saw how awareness seeped into his mind, how he began to understand what the problem was.

It's the moment she either says nothing at all, and they will never talk about it, or she takes the matter in hand, with the ability to control the situation.

“I remember this one interview you gave,” she began when he looked back at her, about to ask her something. “When you guys promoted the Special. Steven, Alex and you.”

 

She stopped there, and he wondered if he had to ask a question to give her a push to go on, or if she just needed a moment to collect the memories, "I remember, yes."

 

With a sigh she went on, not without shoving one hand through her hair, a sign she felt not uncomfortable but ridiculous for saying what she would say next, "Someone asked you who do you prefer. Clara or River." She sat down again.

 

‘ _Clara is a very special friend… but my wife is my wife.’_

 

She stopped right there, this time with all the purpose in the world because she didn't want to repeat what his answer had been. In silence she hoped he wouldn't repeat it either because as stupid as it sounded, and as many time had passed already, she still found herself sitting over a cup of tea or coffee sometimes, remembering it. Pondering about a statement that was based on a fictional story, and she told herself every time, that it was what he needed to say and that it had no meaning at all and that she really should get a life – leave Clara Oswald behind. And then she realized she couldn't because it would mean to leave other things and people behind.

 

Peter knew he couldn't remember everything from interviews – how would that be even possible, but, of course, there were always certain bits he never forgot. Things that had a meaning, or an impact on others, or both. Sure he remembered this particular interview. It had been one of the first interviews without Jenna by his side, without her as his companion. The question had caught him by surprise, and also not. It was normal people compared companions.

His answer had been an honest one and the first best thing that had come to his mind. Only later he had realized how it must have sounded -- something people would remember.

Thanks to Jenna he knew about people and fanbases, people who were invested into the relationship Clara and The Doctor had. Peter had always agreed but had always trouble to put it in words, or actually not. Because he had stated that the Doctor loved Clara, because she made him better, and that it was utterly romantic.

Sometimes he thought, because of all those faces that had played the Doctor before him, and he still represented, and all those relationships there had been, that it was all a bit fucked up.

On the other side, he had to say what he had said, and Jenna knew that. It had been promo-work. He couldn't go on gushing about Clara and Jenna while Alex sat aside him. It was his damn job, and the truth was, Twelve couldn't remember Clara anymore. Or could he? Somewhere in the dark spots of his mind, he remembered that he once had said, the Doctor wouldn't forget anyone.

 

The thought made him sigh, and he took off his glasses, rubbing his beard, his face and ruffled his hair. Indeed, thinking about it all revealed a fucked up dilemma. Or it was just one for him because sometimes it was all about his age, and about Jenna's and because Alex was closer his age and yes, River had been married to Eleven and God, Matt seemed to be surprisingly mad about Alex working with him. Sometimes everything made no sense at all to him.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “When I think about it all, I’m getting a headache.”

 

Jenna huffed in discontent, unable to see what all he was thinking about. Then she shook her head and wanted to stand up.

 

“No! I mean,” he reached for her arm. “It wasn’t the cleverest thing to say. But it was a promo. It was just …,” his hand swayed around in the air, “... words.”

 

“I know, it’s silly,” she said, shrugged and then jumped up, excusing herself to the loo.

 

Peter grabbed again for the disc case, sighed and then shoved it at the end of the pile, before closing the laptop. Clumsily he rose up from the floor, stretching himself till a bone in his back popped back into place with a groan, and then he carried the rest of the pizza into the kitchen.

 

When he was honest, it had been fun shooting with Alex, but there had been no day, he hadn't missed Jenna.

 

Absently he took a bit from the last pizza slice, only to realize that it was cold, and with making a grimace he placed it away again, finding Jenna lean against the door frame.

 

He gave her a shy smile, looking down at her and the pajama bottoms, and the matching blue white hooped socks, "Care to help with the dirty plates?"

 

“Sure,” she shrugged, and joined him by the sink, grabbing a towel, while he placed some glasses and two plates under the water stream.

 

She watched his hands clean the dishes, the water running over his hands, and bubbles from the dish soap covering the back of his hand. Slowly he gave her one piece after another, and when she had dried them, she placed them on the tray. It was not much, a few pieces and five minutes work, and at the end of it, she heard him close the tap and saw his hand was still resting on it. He exhaled, and she knew he would say something.

 

"No, it isn't," Peter turned to her, his hands still wet and a few fine bubbles slowly dissolved into thin air on the back of his hand, "it isn't silly."

 

He understood what had changed her mood, what had nagged her, and what had let her keep thinking about it. With assuring her, he hoped she would now know that whatever he said in an interview, in public, never could be compared to what he really felt, that there were thoughts he couldn't speak out loud. Some things couldn't even said out loud in private, and maybe that was the real dilemma for him. That his heart sometimes wanted to burst out into a triad about emotions and affections and verities.

 

With one of her sad smiles Jenna held the towel out to him, so he could dry his hands, and while he did so, she never let go of it, just looked at him and Peter looked at her, and he knew he must have looked utterly lost — a déjà vu.

On a whim, she adverted her eyes, and began to rub his hands dry, thoroughly wiped the foam away, and Peter let her, till she found it was good enough. With a satisfied expression, she smirked at him and placed the towel aside, "There you go."

 

"Thanks for the wash," he smirked back at her but didn't move one inch away from her. It was past ten, and he was tired, but at this moment, he just wanted to stand with her in the small kitchen, while she rubbed his hands dry.

 

For a moment he went lost in this thought, and to bring him back, she needed to touch his wrist for a moment. Then she rose one of her hands toward his face, not yet touching, "May I?"

 

Puzzled he shook his head slightly, unsure what she meant, rolling his eyes down, seeing then where she looked at and smiled, nodding. Peter didn't wear a full beard often, mostly for a role, seldom in his off time. When he did, he let it grew thick and full.

There had been a break before they had started shooting the last episodes; he had let his beard grow, and simply had refused to shave it off again.

The ladies on set seemed to like it, and he could read in all of them how they secretly thought about touching it. Jenna was no exception, but one of the few he allowed to do so.

 

When he raised his chin for her, she carefully touched his cheeks, the feel of it made her instantly giggle. Not that she never had a man with a beard, but Peter's was much more pronounced as everything she had experienced before. The hair was thick but soft at the same moment, and under Peter's amused looks she followed a path to his throat, only to go back up against the fur.

Betrayed by her sparkling eyes, Peter could see that she enjoyed it, let alone the way she bit her lower lip. And then she went lost in it, scratching over the skin under all the hair, and Peter's eyes fell shut.

 

If he let her go on, he would start to purr like a cat, and so he made a decision against what he wanted, cupping her hands with his, "Jenna."

 

Her fingertips touched his lips, and for a second she had the most foolish idea of her going on her tiptoes and giving him a kiss. And that was exactly what she did. Kissing him.

 

A chased kiss and it was over before she realized she had done it.

 

"Oh my god," she clapped a hand over her mouth. "I am sorry… I- it wasn't… ." With panic in her eyes, she stormed out of the kitchen, leaving an overrun Peter behind.

 

For a moment, he didn't know what had happened, and he didn't know what was going on now, only when he heard Jenna rummage around in her bag, he jumped back into action, "Jenna!"

 

He joined her in the living room watching her drag her bag around, collecting her clothes and belongings, and shove all her belongings into it.

 

"What are you doing?" Peter asked confused.

 

“I think, … it’s better when I leave,” she answered without looking at him. He saw she was too embarrassed because of what happened.

 

"Leave? It's almost midnight!" he blurted, looking out of the window as if to make sure, it was. Doubtless, there would be a cab that would take her, and a hotel that would have room for her, that wouldn't be the problem. The problem was, when he let her leave now, there would be a damage done, and there maybe wasn't any time left to fix it again.

 

Jenna huffed, and stopped her vehement packing, "I think it's for the better. It's obvious we can't… . It was a stupid idea of mine."

 

He stared at her, and he was sure his face and eyebrows went through several emotions and expressions before he glanced down to her legs, saying, "You know, you can't go. You’re still in your pajamas!"

 

Following his glances, she realized she had packed her regular clothes, instead of changing before, "Fuck," and then she reached for the bag again, but Peter lunged forward and stopped her.

 

"You stay! It's the middle of the night, and … I don't get what the problem is anyway."

 

“What the problem is?” she ruffled her hair, having trouble to cope with the situation. “I kissed you!”

 

Peter nodded as if that was a new fact, "I … I noticed, yes," he couldn't stop his hand to touch his lips, where she had placed her lips just moments ago.

Looking around, he wished he still had a table and some chairs, but they were all stacked and secured with duct tape. Knowing Jenna was too much of a whirlwind, he didn't suggest they sat down for the talk and kept standing. "It's not like we haven't kissed before."

 

It wasn't the truth; it also wasn't a lie. They had this shy little kiss, [all accidental on Christmas](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2771690) a few years ago and they also had played once a very childish game in her trailer, [thinking through how it would be to kiss each other, without ever doing so.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2564396)

 

"Peter!" was, therefore, her answer. None of that counted in her opinion. One wasn't real, the other an accident and this one was… obviously something else. A moment of madness.

 

Considering the situation, he stared down at the DVDs, as if he could find an answer there and for him it was there, "I enjoyed doing the Christmas special with Alex, but you right," his voice pitched, "it was too early. We should have made it next year, but not that early after your departure. So," he got on his knees, and pushed all the other cases aside, till he found the Christmas Special from 2015. Standing up again, he gave it a last glance, before he opened the window and through it outside, "away with it!"

 

When she heard the plastic hit the street or a car, an audible gasp escaped her, "Are you completely insane?"

 

“Why are you asking?”

 

"You just threw Doctor Who out of the window!" she joined him by the window and tried to see where he had thrown it, but it probably laid now under a car, to be found the next morning by someone else.

 

“I should have signed it, shouldn’t I?” he asked her with this puppy eyes of his.

 

“Oh, Peter!” she hit his arm with her fist. “Why?”

 

"It made you stop leaving," he made a hand gesture, hoping it would explain his little outburst.

 

Then he walked back to the bed, and sat down, "It's also obvious, that you and I, that we don't want to talk about what has happened in the kitchen. Because that would mean all certain kinds of embarrassment and so I suggest, we just leave it be and watch another damn movie!"

 

To underline his words he grabbed for the other cases and flipped vigorous through them. When he was done with the pile and hadn't found one he wanted to watch — as he wasn't really reading, just waiting for Jenna to say something — he shoved them away, looking at her, "I sleep on the fucking floor, if this makes you stay."

 

"Yeah?" she flopped down aside him, "And then what? Your back is a wreck, and I have to call a doctor in the morning because you slept on the hard floor. Thanks, no!"

 

They both started to smirk, sharing shy glances, and then Jenna leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and Peter smiled even more. He grabbed her hand, and linked two of his fingers with hers, and when a minute had passed, he couldn't hold back anymore, "Why did you do it? I mean…"

 

She knew what he wanted to say. Why would someone like her, a young, intelligent woman, who had potential admirers at every corner, wanted to kiss a man almost double her age. A man who was — by his opinion — not a heartthrob, and so not something a young woman could want.

One of many layers that, in case they decided to talk deeper about it, had to be discussed.

 

"The simple answer is," she trailed with one of her finger over his hand, "I was curious."

 

“Because of the beard?”

 

"Because of the beard," she chuckled, and he also did.

 

"And? Did it put up with your expectations?"

 

She leaned away from him, so she could look him in the eyes, “It was a foolish thing to do, and it was a moment of madness, and… I have absolutely no idea how it felt, because,” she made a face and a wave with her hand.

 

“You didn’t concentrate on it,” Peter smirked, knowing exactly what she tried to tell him.

 

“I didn’t concentrate on it. Much ado about nothing,” wiggling her toes, she watched the fabric of her socks move.

 

He didn't want to tell her, that he hadn't concentrated on it too, as it had happened way too quick, and he had been the one being overrun, but there was a part of him, that regretted he had missed it, "I am going to shave it off this weekend. The beard."

 

“Oh,” she stopped with her toes, only watching her fingertips nudge against each other now, trying to understand what he was saying.

A friend, telling another, he would have a shave. Not exactly big news, and yet there was something in his voice that made Jenna keep thinking about it. Let her assume that there might be a hidden message somewhere.

 

"I also should tell you, that I am leaving on Monday, to Spain, for quite a while," he had thought about when to tell her since a week, since they had filmed again together, and even before that.

 

The decision had been made two months ago, and since then he had racked his brain, how to tell her. Not his friends or part of his family, that was all too easy, but Jenna. Somehow he had hoped the press would find out because one of his pals would spill the beans, so Jenna would hear about it, and would call him, to make upbraids, but nothing happened.

Now there were only two days left, and it seemed not a good moment, but at least like a moment, to finally tell her. Hoping it helped to make her realize what he tried to say, "We rented a house near Madrid, for holidays and I have an offer for a role on stage."

 

She thought about it. Not about him going to Spain, more about if she had ever heard him speak Spanish, “I didn’t know you speak Spanish.”

 

“It’s an English play,” he explained.

 

There she was sure he wanted to tell her something, and she was sure she got the message because she knew him for so long now, and there was nothing she not understood. There was no enigma left in him; she knew what it meant when his eyebrows went into attack mode, what a twitch of his lips meant and what it meant when his accent became harder or softer. Knew what it meant when his fingertips brushed against her skin here and there, knew what she meant to him, and knew that he knew, what he meant to her.

 

Peter wasn't telling her he was leaving to Spain, and he wasn't telling her that he would save off the beard — not really. And now she could keep sitting beside him, and tell him exactly this, what would lead to a flood of words and a babbling —  they both could assume it would end in a too honest confession, or keep quiet.

The thing was that they not wanted to do it. They never had the talk, and like their alter-egos, they not wished to have it because they knew.

 

Instead, she turned toward him, and he tilted his head looking at her with a sad smile. The same smile he had when they had shot Hell Bent. A vivid memory that had burned into her conscious, because this weekend now had turned into a goodbye.

 

"It's late," she said after a minute. "We should go to bed; there is a lot to do tomorrow."

 

“Yes,” he agreed.

 

In silence Peter turned off the light, and laid aside Jenna, who had rolled onto her side, facing the wall opposite her, “Sleep tight,” he whispered, and after that he fell asleep, facing the other wall.

**Author's Note:**

> I know the end is harsh, but please note, this fic is a stand alone, but is actually incomplete and will be continued in two more parts! [Saturday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6219790) & [Sunday](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6219814/chapters/14249971).
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I would love to read a comment or see a kudo.


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